


Once Upon a Dragon Age

by DuncansDaughter



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: All Magic Comes With a Price, Captain Hook | Isabella (implied), Crossover, Dark Fantasy, F/F, F/M, High Fantasy, High Fantasy vs Dark Fantasy, M/M, Slight Continuity Alterations, Spoilers, so many spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuncansDaughter/pseuds/DuncansDaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when a Fade rift doesn't connect to the Fade, but instead functions as a portal to another land... a land without magic? Kismet Amell, Warden-Commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens, is about to find out when she falls through a Fade rift and lands in Storybrooke, Maine. </p>
<p>The story is set during/slightly after the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition and roughly Season 2b/3a of Once Upon a Time. I've made a few continuity edits to fit the story. Emma and Hook are together, but the Neverland storyline never happened. I don't foresee this story containing a lot of smut, just as an fyi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Episode One: A Rift in Storybrooke

The flash blazed through town, flooding Granny’s with green light. One minute, Emma and Henry sat together, enjoying hot cocoa with cinnamon; the next, everything had gone bright green. The light lingered for several moments. Patrons screamed and tried to hide while Granny and Ruby ducked and covered behind the counter.

Emma’s immediate instinct was to cover Henry with her jacket while keeping one eye open. The green light blazed bright, but not enough to hurt. After a few long heartbeats, the light faded away. Emma raised her head, taking stock of the situation.

“Is everyone okay?” asked Emma, as the other patrons in Granny’s slowly crept out of hiding. Whatever the light meant, being touched by it seemed to have no immediate ill effect. Emma stepped outside, looking for it’s source. Other people, just as confused, poked their heads out of windows and doors. Henry followed close behind, pointing out a green glow in the distance.

“There!” he said. “What is that?”

Emma followed to where her son pointed. Sure enough, a ball of green light floated in the woods, distantly perceptible.

Emma sighed. Just when things had begun to calm down!

“I don’t know, kid,” she said, “but I’m going to check it out.” Emma took her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and handed it to Henry. “Stay here. Call David and let him know I’ve gone to investigate. Let Regina know, too. And… might as well call Hook.”

Henry nodded with enthusiasm. Emma inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t know what the green light was, but if it turned out to be dangerous, she wanted Henry nowhere near it. Fortunately, Emma had figured out that the best way to keep Henry out of danger was to give him an important job to do somewhere safe. And Henry seemed more than happy to fill the role of communications officer right now. She handed over some cash, too, so he could settle their hot chocolate bill before setting out.

 

Emma followed the light. It didn’t appear to be getting bigger, which Emma counted as a good thing. Not a curse, then. She made sure her revolver sat loose in her hip holster as she got closer to the light.

Gradually, Emma felt the hairs on the back of her neck start to prickle. She groaned. A prickly neck meant magic. And that meant having to either make a deal with Gold or owe Regina a favor.

Emma studied the light while creeping slowly closer. A green glowing cloud, floating perhaps twelve feet off the ground and bleeding small wisps of an unfamiliar magic.

But more importantly, Emma found a person. An unconscious woman, lying face-down in the dirt directly below the light. Emma took some time to cautiously examine the stranger before approaching. Likely another fairy tale had dropped into Storybrooke, and Emma wanted a sense of who she might be dealing with.

If this woman came from a fairy tale, though, Emma had no idea which one. She looked to be around Emma’s age, perhaps a little older, with pale skin and short dark hair, styled mostly loose with a few small braids. She wore strange armored robes of blue and silver, in a fashion Emma had never before seen. Emma couldn’t see any obvious weapons, only an elaborately-carved staff and a leather backpack.

Emma couldn’t recall ever having seen anyone even remotely like this woman in Henry’s book. Everything about her seemed unfamiliar, unlike anything she’d seen in the Enchanted Forest during her brief time there.

“Hello?” said Emma. “Are you alright?” She was close enough to touch the stranger now, and laid a hand gently on her shoulder. The woman groaned again, and rolled over.

Her eyes fluttered open, and the woman began to sit up. “Sweet Maker…” she grumbled.

“Hey,” said Emma. “Are you okay? What’s your name?”

The stranger looked up at Emma and began to stand, her armor slightly clinking as she used her staff to help her up.

“Kismet A-,” she began. But then her eyes went wide. She stopped moving and fell back down to her knees, profoundly shocked by something Emma could not see. Kismet looked at her hands in wonder, then touched her cheeks and temples.

“Hey! Are you okay, Kismet?” repeated Emma.

Kismet turned towards Emma, still shaken.

“Why… why can’t I _feel_ anything?” Kismet demanded.

 

The first thing Kismet noticed, after the pain of her rough landing abated, was _silence_.

She’d forgotten what life had been like before Duncan, before the Joining… even before her mage powers fully manifested. Until this moment. No song of the Old Gods, no whispers of demons drifting across the Veil. Kismet briefly panicked that she had somehow been made Tranquil before realizing, with relief, that a Tranquil would not panic.

“Feel what?” asked the blonde woman who’d woken Kismet after her fall. “Are you injured?”

“I don’t think so,” said Kismet. She evaluated the woman. No Taint. A short read coat, possibly in the style of the Free Marches, and the thick, blue trousers she’d seen before on miners. She had an air of authority about her, but no weapons. A foreman, Kismet concluded, and therefore no immediate threat.

So she ignored the woman for now and reached, performing a training exercise she’d done a thousand times, summoning a small wisp of magical energy. She struggled with this simple spell, as if she were an apprentice again. But the wisp flared to life, a small ball of light just above her shoulder.

“Hey now!” exclaimed Emma, going for her pistol. “Cut that out!”

Assured that she was not completely without power, Kismet now turned to Emma. She’d been traveling along the Coastlands, how had she gotten to the Free Marches?

“It’s just a wisp,” Kismet tried to assure the woman. “I only needed to know - never mind, if it makes you feel better.” With a flick of thought, Kismet banished the wisp. Sometimes, it was just better to not scare mundane folk with magic.

“Care to explain that?” said Emma, pointing up.

Kismet followed Emma’s gesture, to the green glowing cloud directly above her head.

“ _Well, shit_ ,” Kismet said.

 

 


	2. Episode Two: A Great Darkness Within You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emma brings Kismet to Mr. Gold to attempt to figure out where 'Ferelden' is; and Mr. Gold makes a disturbing discovery about the Grey Warden.

“That’s a Fade rift,” Kismet said, with wonder in her voice. “But where are the demons and wraiths?”

“ _Excuse me_?” asked Emma.

“They’ve been appearing all over Ferelden and Orlais,” said Kismet. “But most Fade rifts have half a dozen demons circling, and more trying to get out.” She paused, sensing. “But the Fade here is somehow suppressed.”

“What’s a Fade?” asked Emma.

For the first time since regaining consciousness, Kismet paused, and really studied her surroundings. No Veil, no Fade, and no Calling; but a Fade rift directly above her. And as she studied the woman whom she initially believed to be a miner from the Marches, she realized she was egregiously incorrect.

Thedosian women almost universally kept their hair shoulder-length or shorter; the rare woman who grew her hair out would braid or pin it into elaborate styles. But this woman let her blonde hair fall freely past her shoulders. And her pants and jacket had been cut to flatter her figure; no miner would ever tailor their work clothes so carefully.

“Where am I?” asked Kismet.

“Storybrooke,” answered Emma. “Maine. Where are you from?”

“Denerim, originally,” answered Kismet. “The Circle at Lake Calenhad, Kinloch Hold. I’m… Kismet Amell.”

Kismet braced herself for the reaction she usually got when announcing herself as the Hero of Ferelden. She and Alistair had a private game they played, keeping a count of the various ways people reacted when they found out who she was.

Emma’s reaction, however, was entirely novel - she seemed as unfazed as a Qunari.

“So, not the Enchanted Forest?” asked Emma.

“Do you mean the Brecilian Forest?” asked Kismet. “No, I was born in Denerim, but I grew up at Kinloch Hold. Are we near Kirkwall? My cousin Garrett is… well, he can vouch for me, he’s the Champion of Kirkwall. Among other things.”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” answered Emma, shaking her head. “How did you get here?”

Kismet looked back at the Fade rift. “That, somehow?” she wondered out loud. “It might be a portal as well as a rift.”

Kismet extended her magical senses. She felt the same thing she had whenever she tried to study a rift - the paradox of a knotted, open wound. But while other rifts seemed to pulse and heave, this one remained relatively still. It vibrated lightly, and Kismet could sense power there. But the power remained contained. A little magic bled out into the world, but not much.

She pushed her memory, trying to remember how she’d arrived in this strange place. “I was… traveling,” she said. “Somewhere along the Coastlands, near Soldier’s Peak. A rift opened and I… fell through?”

 

Emma sighed, and wondered, as she always did when confronted with these situations, whether it would be better to pay Gold up front or risk owing him a favor later. She concluded it probably didn’t matter, and that Gold would likely get the better of her no matter what she tried.

“All right,” she told Kismet. “Come with me. I know someone who might be able to help.”

“You really have no idea who I am?” Kismet asked as she gathered her belongings and began to follow Emma out of the forest.

“Nope,” said Emma. “Don’t take it personal though. I’m out of the loop on a lot of things. Catching up quickly, though!”

 

Emma and Kismet met David at the edge of the forest, where he’d brought Emma’s yellow car.

“Hey, Emma,” said David. “I saw the green light, and then Henry called me. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I think,” said Emma. “This is Kismet. She came through… something. I’m taking her to Gold to get some answers. There’s some green light thing near the wishing well. Don’t let anyone go near. It might be dangerous.”

“Hello,” said Kismet, extending her hand. The man called David took it, returning her greeting.

“Where are you from?” asked David. “I don’t recognize you as one of my subjects.”

“Ah, well…” said Kismet, unsure how to answer. She certainly wasn’t this man’s subject. Anora ruled the east and Celene the west, and this man looked emphatically like neither monarch. And she’d met all the Marcher princes and counts when her cousin married his elvhen wife. “Denerim?” she finally said. “I’m Kismet Amell.”

“Pleased to meet you, Kismet,” said David. He obviously didn’t recognize Kismet any more than Emma had, and Kismet _really_ started wishing there was a map nearby. She’d collected them for awhile, thinking they might be suitable as gifts. But she could never find someone who seemed the sort to appreciate maps, and she’d sold off her collection in Amaranthine. She regretted that decision now.

“You look like you’re a fighter,” commented David.

“Yes,” Kismet nodded. “I’m Warden-Commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens.”

“The who?” asked Emma, looking to David. But he only looked at Kismet, the same question on his face.

Kismet didn’t know how to answer. No one had ever asked her what a Grey Warden was; even children knew.

“I… kill darkspawn,” she answered. Where _was_ she?

“What’s a darkspawn?” asked David.

“It sounds bad,” commented Emma, almost flippantly.

 

Kismet could only stare, profoundly shocked.

“Dark...spawn,” she repeated. “Hurlocks, genlocks, ogres? Hordes of monsters who erupt from the ground and spread the Taint, killing any living thing which gets infected? How by Andraste’s flaming grace do your people not have _darkspawn_?”

“We don’t,” said Emma shortly. “Thank goodness. Could any of these darkspawn come through that rift?”

“No,” answered Kismet. “Maybe. I don’t know. If I came through, they could come through. But… I don’t sense any darkspawn.”

Kismet paused, concentrating. No, nothing. Not even the faint hum which she only now realized had been with her since the Joining. “I mean _any_ darkspawn. _Where am I_?”

Emma sighed. “You’re in a world without magic. I know, it must sound crazy to you, but it’s true.”

Kismet sagged against her staff. The secret hope and secret fear of every mage in Thedas. Tears came to her eyes, but she could not say whether they were tears of grief… or relief.

“A world without magic?” she asked. Kismet took a moment to treasure the silence, so precious and so forgotten. Ten years of the Archdemon’s whispers in the back of her head; ten years before that connected to the Fade. The one thing she’d always wanted, but had never dare dream of. A world without magic.

David broke her reverie. “I hate to interrupt, but… darkspawn?” he asked. “You can sense them? Are we in danger?”

“Yes,” said Kismet. “No. I mean, yes I can sense darkspawn; but no, you’re not in danger. I’m not sure how to explain it. I’ve never heard of Storybrooke. I don’t know how I got here or where _here_ even is. But… this world is _safe_.”  

“How did you get here?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” answered Kismet. “I fell through a rift and came out here. But not even the wisest mages know anything significant about the rifts. Or… Storybrookes.”

“Well, we’re going to someone who might have answers,” said Emma. “Get in.”

Emma got into a strange yellow carriage. Kismet could tell it was a carriage by the seats, but nothing else looked like any carriage she knew. Emma opened the door, and Kismet slowly sat down on a soft leather chair. The front part had no room for her gear, so staff and backpack went into the rear.

“What’s this?” Kismet asked.

“It’s a car,” said Emma. “Put your seat belt on,” she said, before demonstrating to a confused Kismet how a seat belt worked.

“I will _not_ be bound,” stated Kismet once she figured out what Emma wanted her to do. Bad enough she had to consent to be locked in this carriage with a stranger, she dared not restrict her movement.

“Have it your way,” shrugged Emma.

 

Kismet gazed out the window as they passed the various buildings of Storybrooke. She’d never seen so much glass used as decoration before, and wondered why everyone seemed to prefer colorless windows. She also marveled at the clothing - not just the strange styles, but how _clean_ everyone looked. And she might have taken that to indicate nobility, but no one wore armor or bore weaponry. Not even a mage’s staff.

“What do the people do here?” she asked, wondering what sort of industry or agriculture would support such a tidy, well-ordered town.

“Well, there’s Granny’s,” pointed out Emma. “And the library. There’s a mine where the… a mine just outside of town. And here, the pawn shop.”

Emma parked, then showed Kismet how to use the door handle to get out. She led Kismet into a dimly lit store, full of all sorts of interesting and unique objects. Kismet was immediately reminded of the Wonders of Thedas shop in Denerim.

A bell jingled as they entered, and a man came to the front. Though he wore a style of clothing Kismet had never seen before, even she could tell his suit was quite well-tailored.

“Ah, hello, Miss Swan. I see you’ve brought a friend,” he said in a soft, lightly accented voice. “Might she have anything to do with the green light we all saw not too long ago?”

“You’re Dalish!” exclaimed Kismet before realizing that, though this man had a similar accent to those who called themselves The People, he was nevertheless human.

“Pardon?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” said Kismet. “You… your accent. You sound Dalish, but you’re obviously human.”

“Not Dalish, I don’t think,” answered the man. “Just a humble shop owner.”

“If you were Dalish, you’d know,” said Kismet.   

Emma stepped in to do introductions. “Gold, this is Kismet. Kismet, this is Mister Gold. I found Kismet near the wishing well, just under something she calls a Fade rift.”

“A Fade rift?” asked Gold.

“It’s green and it glows,” said Emma. “But I don’t think it’s dangerous. Yet. Kismet came through it, but she’s not from the Enchanted Forest. I thought you could help.”

“Really, now?” asked Gold. “Where are you from, dearie?”

“Thedas,” said Kismet. “My name is Kismet Amell. I was born in Denerim, and went to live at the Kinloch Hold Circle after my magic manifested. As an adult, I was recruited into the Grey Wardens by Warden-Captain Duncan; and stopped the Fifth Blight. People call me the Hero of Ferelden for that. I’m also the Arlessa of Amaranthine, but I left on important business some time ago.”

She watched Mr. Gold’s face as she spoke; but either he was a very convincing liar or he had heard of her no more than Emma or David had.

“That promises to be a very interesting tale,” said Gold. “But I’m afraid none of it means anything to me. Come here, let’s see if we can figure out where you’re from.”

Gold brought her into the back of his shop, where he proceeded to study Kismet with some interest.

“You’re a mage,” commented Kismet, as she perceived magical energy radiating from the man.

“I wouldn’t say that,” said Gold, a little lightheartedly. “Though I do have some talent with magic. May I have some of your blood?”

Kismet felt utterly shocked by how casually this man made such a request.

“Are… are you serious?” she asked.

“Just a drop, dearie.”

“No,” she said.

“I need it to help me find out what world you come from, nothing more.”

“ _No_ ,” repeated Kismet. “I’m leaving,” she said, gathering her things to walk out of this blood mage’s store.

“Hold on,” said Emma. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know how you do it in Storybrooke,” said Kismet, her anger rising, “but where _I_ come from, blood magic is dangerous. I won’t be a party to it. Especially with my own blood.”

“Please,” said Mr. Gold, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “I meant no offense. I’ve another way. No blood, I promise.”

Kismet slowly sat back down, still suspicious but also thinking of the research she’d allowed Avernus to continue. There weren’t any darkspawn here, and if she was going to get back to where there _were_ darkspawn to fight, she could excuse a drop of blood magic.

Mr. Gold had gone to a cabinet, and began pulling out various small pieces of glassware and carefully-labelled bottles.

“How do you feel about hair?” he asked, tipping a clear, viscous liquid into a lavender cut-glass bottle.

“Fine,” said Kismet. She watched carefully as Mr. Gold mixed several other ingredients into the small bottle.

“You have magic?” she asked.

“I do,” said Gold.

“So how do you cope with the demons?” asked Kismet as she watched Mr. Gold at his alchemy.

“Pardon?” he asked.

“Do you not have demons in this world?” asked Kismet. “Spirits who want to inhabit the bodies of mages?”

“God, no,” answered Emma. “Is that common where you’re from?”

No Fade. No darkspawn. No demons. A clean, safe world.

“I’ve never dealt with a demon, dearie,” said Gold. “I can promise you that.”

“Even though you’re a blood mage?” Kismet challenged. But though she might have been angry in Denerim, now she was merely curious.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Gold answered. “I don’t make a habit of using blood. It’s useful sometimes, but not for every problem.”

“Well, that’s definitely not anything you’d hear a blood mage say,” said Kismet as she watched Gold slowly mix his reagents.  

Emma repeated her question. “Tell me about these demons,” she insisted.

“They live in the Fade, and tempt mages in their sleep. I’ve been resisting demons and their beguilements since I was twelve,” Kismet answered. “Every mage has to.”

“What happens if they can’t?” asked Emma.

“If they can’t? Best case scenario, they are caught beforehand and made Tranquil. Worst case, they become an abomination and wreak havoc before the Templars kill them.”

“No demons here,” cut in Mr. Gold. “Do you mind, dearie?” he asked, gesturing towards her hair. Not taking her eyes off the man, Kismet plucked a few strands of her hair and handed them over.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Her natural curiosity had begun to surface. She’d never seen magic done like this before.

“Well,” said Mr. Gold, “You carry your homeland with you. It’s a part of you, and you will always be linked to home. Blood is the easiest way to read that link. But, as you are cautious regarding your blood, I can replicate the same effect with a little bit of your hair and a little extra magic.”

And with that, Mr. Gold put Kismet’s hair into the glass bottle. The potion within immediately started to glow a deep blue, and small dark flecks swirled inside the glow. He carried it over to an opaque glass globe, and let a single drop fall onto the surface. It began to spread outward over the glass, black and blue intermixed. Kismet found it quite pretty.  

“Well, that’s unusual,” said Mr. Gold, peering at the bottle.

“What is?” asked Kismet.

“How unusual?” asked Emma.

But Mr. Gold ignored them both, and shook out another drop onto the globe. The black and blue separated. The blue formed a map Kismet recognized, while the black formed into an unfamiliar shape just below it.

“Thedas!” she exclaimed. She pointed to two spots on the blue map. “That’s Denerim, where I was born; and that’s Lake Calenhad, where I grew up. But… I don’t know what the black part is. It should be the Korcari Wilds down here, but it’s not. The shape is all wrong.”

Mr. Gold had begun to look gravely concerned.

“Usually, this is all supposed to be one color,” he said. He let his hand hover over the black area of the globe, using his magic to study it. His concern deepened, and he reached again to Kismet, his hand tingling with magic. Kismet felt his magic, a tendril of exploratory energy mixing with her aura. As he studied her, his face fell.  

Emma had seen Mr. Gold in many situations, but she had rarely ever seen him so worried. Or sad.  

“Are you feeling alright, dearie?” he asked.

“Better than I have in a long time,” answered Kismet. “Why?”

“I think there might be something… wrong. But I can’t tell for sure without a drop of your blood. I’m sorry, but it’s the only way.”

Kismet’s eyes narrowed. “Exactly what will you do with it?”

“Nothing untoward, I promise. Just read whatever’s inside it.”

“I want the blood burnt afterward,” insisted Kismet.

“That’s perfectly acceptable,” answered Gold. “You can do it yourself if you’d like. Make sure it’s done properly.”

“Alright,” said Kismet, who struggled to call another wisp before she extended her hand and let Gold take a drop of her blood with a sharp bodkin.

Gold didn’t use the globe this time. Instead, he brought out another potion vial, and let Kismet’s blood drop inside. The blood spread out, turning the potion within red. But then a blackness swirled outward from the depths of the glass, almost overwhelming the red.

“What does that mean?” asked Emma.

“Nothing good,” said Gold, still concerned. To Kismet, he said, with some sadness and a strange sense of wonder, “There’s a great darkness within you, dearie.”

“Yes,” said Kismet. “I know. Is that what you were worried about?”

“I don’t think you understand,” said Gold. “It’s killing you. Very slowly. But it is killing you.”

“Yes,” repeated Kismet. “I know.”

“What kind of darkness?” asked Emma.

“I can’t quite tell,” answered Gold. “Darker than anything I’ve felt before.”

“Whoa,” said Emma. “Are you sure?” I mean, you’re… you.”

Gold turned to face Emma, and said, “Oh, yes, Miss Swan. Our new friend here carries the most profound darkness I’ve ever sensed, in anyone.”

He turned back to Kismet. “One day, it will take you over.”

“ _Yes_ ,” repeated Kismet. “ _I know_. Can I have the bodkin now?”

Gold handed Kismet the long needle, and she proceeded to set the tip on fire, getting rid of the small traces of her blood while Emma and Gold questioned her.   

“Is she dangerous?” asked Emma. “Are you dangerous?”

“Extremely,” said Kismet. “But generally not to people.”

“I can also sense great heroism in her,” said Gold. “How did both these powers come to be within you?”

Kismet pondered her answer. She had sworn never to betray the secrets of the Grey Wardens, but this world seemed to have little need of her order. Revealing what she knew would hardly harm recruitment efforts; and this mage had already figured out half of it.

“I joined the Grey Wardens,” answered Kismet finally.

“Grey Wardens?” Gold asked.

“You’re luckier if you don’t know,” said Kismet.

“No, hold on,” said Emma. “I think we need some answers. Tell me about this darkness, and what it’s doing inside you.”

“I am a Grey Warden,” Kismet repeated, “sworn to oppose the Blight. But it seems you don’t get Blights here, in which case, you should be thanking the Maker every day of your lives. The ‘darkness’ you sense in me is the Taint. I took on the Taint so I could fight the Blight. Having touched darkness, I know how to kill it. Beyond that, I can’t say.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” asked Emma. Kismet could tell that Emma didn’t trust easy, and Gold’s revelations weren’t helping warm her feelings.

Kismet ignored the question, instead looking back to the globe. She pointed again to the blue. “If that’s where I’m from,” she she said, before moving her finger over the black area, “then that must be where the Blight is from.”

She thought some more. “Maybe it just shows that place because that’s where I Joined… or maybe there’s something more there. Underground, maybe.”

“Gold, does any of this make any sense to you?” asked Emma.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t. This isn’t a world I’m familiar with,” he said. “Tell me about these Blights. What are they?”

Kismet began to recite the legend every Andrastian child learned in the cradle. About the seven Tevinter magisters, in their hubris and folly, storming the Golden City, turning it black and bringing doom upon all the world.  She spoke of the Old Gods, and how they became archdemons once infected by the Blight. She described the darkspawn, the mindless hordes she’d fought, and the terror and destruction they brought with them.

“The Taint destroys every living thing it infects,” she said. “The lucky die quickly or are killed out of mercy by the their loved ones, the unlucky ones become ghouls…. the unluckiest…” But Kismet could not finish. Her meeting with poor, doomed Hespith in the Deep Roads still gave her nightmares.  

“How does one stop a Blight?” asked Mr. Gold.

“You kill the archdemon leading it,” said Kismet. “But only a Grey Warden can do that.”

“Why?” asked Emma.

Kismet shook her head, refusing to answer. Emma might have pressed her for more information, but the three of them were interrupted by the jingling of the shop’s bell.

“ _Gold_!” called a sharp, feminine voice from the front. It repeated, closer this time, as another woman came into the shop.

Kismet did a double take when she saw the newcomer. For a moment, she thought Morrigan had somehow arrived. But, no - though this woman could have been Morrigan’s sister, she was not Kismet’s old arcane friend. Kismet did take a moment to contemplate the possibility that one of Morrigan’s sisters had arrived in Storybrooke, not sure which option she’d prefer.

“Green light,” said the dark-haired woman. “Gold, was that you?”

“It certainly was not,” answered Gold. “Though it may have had something to do with our friend here. Kismet, meet Regina. She’s the mayor here.”

The woman, Regina, stopped to look at Kismet. She could have given Anora lessons in haughtiness - something which made Kismet put a mental tick mark in the ‘Possibly one of Morrigan’s sisters’ category.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Kismet Amell,” she answered. “A Grey Warden.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Quite a lot where I’m from; not so much here, it seems.”

“Are you the one responsible for the green light?” she asked.

“Technically, no,” answered Kismet. “That’s a Fade rift. They’ve been popping up all over. I think I fell through one, and ended up here.”

“Can you fix it?” she asked. “It’s bleeding magic all over the place.”

“No,” said Kismet. “I only know of one person who can, and last I heard, she was on her way to Adamant fortress. Er… really far away and trying to fix a very bad problem. So even if we could get ahold of her, she’s probably too busy to seal a rift that isn’t doing much right now.”

“She’s from a place called Thedas,” said Emma. “Have you heard of it?”

Regina shook her head, but promised, “I can look into it.”

 

And then, as if the back of Mr. Gold’s shop wasn’t already crowded enough, David re-appeared, with Henry in tow.

“Mom! Mom!” exclaimed the boy, “Did you find out what that green light was?”

“Sort of,” answered Emma. “Henry, this is Kismet. Do you recognize her from your book?”

The boy scrutinized Kismet, who felt a shiver go down her spine at this boy’s consideration.

“No,” he finally answered. “Where is she from?”

“Some place called Thedas,” said Emma. “Or Denerim?”

“Denerim is the capital city of Ferelden,” explained Kismet, “and Ferelden is an independent country in the south of Thedas.”

But the boy shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. But my moms are really good with magic, I’m sure they can help!”

“I hope so,” said Kismet.

“Do you have a place to stay?” asked Emma.

“A tavern?” Kismet answered. “I have gold enough. I certainly don’t mind camping, if the forests are safe.”

“Nonsense,” said David. “You can stay with my wife and I. Emma has just moved out, and Mary Margaret would be glad of the company.”

Kismet nodded. “I’m grateful, David.”

She turned back to Emma, “I don’t suppose you found a dog near me?” she asked.

“A dog? No,” said Emma. “What kind of dog?”

“A mabari hound,” Kismet answered. “A Ferelden wardog, though he’s quite gentle so long as you’re not a darkspawn.”

“I’ll keep my eye out,” said David. “I used to work in animal control.”

“Thank you again. He answers to the name Barkspawn,” said Kismet. She looked back to Mr. Gold and Regina. “I appreciate the help you’ve already rendered me. I may need to call upon your aid in the future; I can’t stay away from my home for very long and I’ll certainly need help understanding how magic works here.”

“Of course, dearie,” said Mr. Gold. “Anything you need. Just be warned… all magic comes with a price.”

Kismet laughed, a rueful, bitter chuckle. “Isn’t that the truth?”

 


End file.
